Dark Daughter
by Muggleborn-Meghan1992
Summary: What if Hermione was not Harry Potter's best friend or part of the Golden Trio? What if, instead, she were the Dark Lord's daughter, and Draco Malfoy's betrothed? Dark Hermione. Actual plot. Please R
1. Prologue Seventeen years ago

Four people sat in a very large, grand room. They were all seated in high backed chairs, facing a slowly simmering fire. It must have been late at night or early morning, because the sky outside was pitch black as it only is at those two moments. The room that the four congregated in was inside a very large, beautiful house, although there was nothing homey about it. Passerby often stated that although the house was in market condition (and probably would have fetched more than the Queen's palace), it had the feel of abandonment to it. No one was ever seen coming or going from the house. But what the average passerby didn't know was that it belonged to a family of very rich, very powerful wizards. And at that very moment, one of the most feared and mighty wizards of all time was gracing the house with his presence.

The gathering inside was not a happy one. The two people towards the right of the hearth had long blonde hair, pale, pointed faces, and a look of terror in their blue-grey eyes. The man, if you could call him that, facing them, was pale also, but different in every other way. His eyes were narrow like a cats, and pupils a vivid, blood red. He alone knew why these strange transformations were brought upon his otherwise healthy body. His features were slightly distorted, and his dark brown hair had streaks of silver in it.

The woman next to him had a set of robes pulled tight over her face. There was hardly any bit you could see of her except her long, lustrous hair, and her penetrating brown eyes that stared out from under her hood. She seemed to be neither frightened, nor in command, as the red eyed wizard was.

"You know how much I had hoped to have a son, Lucius," said the red eyed wizard in a high, cold voice. There was fury lining every syllable that he spoke.

'Y—yes, my Lord," the man called Lucius stammered.

"However," the Dark Lord turned menacingly to the woman beside him, "a complication has arisen."

"We live to serve you my Lord, any way we can—"

"Silence!" The Dark Lord spat. "I do not wish to hear what you might do for me at this moment." The blonde haired Lucius fell immediately silent.

"The woman that I have taken to bear my children," the Dark Lord stated, "has not given me a son, an heir. She carries a female fetus inside her." The blonde haired woman at Lucius's side gave a gasp, and sent a furtive glance down to the other woman's slightly bulging stomach, and then sent a protective hand down to cover her own abdomen, which was protruding slightly.

"I know for a fact that your wife is pregnant with a boy." Words seemed to escape both Lucius and his wife, because neither of them replied. Then, slowly, the blonde woman opened her mouth to speak.

"Surely, a daughter would be just as well of an heir, if brought up correctly?" The woman said hurriedly. "Or you will surely have another child my Lord, a son, there wouldn't be a need to take—" The Dark Lord gave her a glare, and she quieted at once.

"I am not asking to take your son away from you, Narcissa." He spoke condescendingly to her. "Although, if I had, you would gladly give him to your master, would you not?" Narcissa did not speak, but lowered her head. Lucius, however, spoke to cover up her silence.

"Of course, my Lord." Lucius only answered this way because he was sure that it was not what the Dark Lord had come to ask. The Dark Lord nodded, and then gestured to the dark haired woman on the right.

"She has convinced me that although the daughter will never be an heir, she might in other ways be useful when she is grown. For now, however, my unborn daughter will serve the purpose of binding you family to me, Lucius. One day, our children shall marry." Lucius was astounded. Narcissa spoke again first.

"Wh—what an _honor _my Lord." She said. She was just grateful that it was all the Dark Lord wanted. It would put their family on a level with the Dark Lord that no one else would be able to claim; a nobility that put them above the rest.

The dark haired woman had not spoken the whole time, and no emotion on her face betrayed her.

"Delphina knows what will happen if she is unsuccessful on her second attempt to produce a son." The Dark Lord did not even spare a glance for the woman who was carrying his child. She was not his wife, and he had no love lost for her. She was a means to an end.

"When…shall they join?" Lucius asked, eager to please his master.

"They shall marry after eighteen years have passed, and my rule is established. My daughter will bring me honor, your son shall bring you glory. It is decided."

**I know it's really short…but it is a prologue after all. Forewarning: most of my story will not be compliant with what J.K. Rowling has written. Obviously. **

**Thank you for reading, and please review. **

**I'll update as soon as possible. **


	2. The Beginning

**A/N: In this story, Voldemort has heard the prophecy, and attacked Harry, and has returned to his body. Delphina bore a child, a son, before she was slain by Voldemort's own hand. A Death Eater family loyal to the Dark Lord has taken Hermione Riddle, and her younger brother, Corvus, into their custody. I chose to name both Hermione's mother and brother after constellations (Delphina being a woman's name derived from the constellation Delphinus) because that seems to be a popular thing to do in J.K.'s Wizarding world among the pureblood families. This chapter starts with the beginning of Hermione's sixth year. (Corvus is a fourth year.) The rest of the events that have happened in the books have already occurred up to this point: especially Voldemort returning to his body. Corvus and Hermione are both aware of their parentage, and Voldemort requests audiences with Corvus often, but Hermione hardy ever sees him. She and Draco know that they are betrothed to one another, but are also very good friends. Now that you're all caught up…**

**Thank you for the reviews, and I'm glad that people have shown so much interest so early on in the story. Please, keep it up. : -)**

**Meghan**

Seventeen years later…

Hermione Marvolo was sitting in the Great Hall, awaiting the start of term feast to begin. The Headmaster was talking, but she was barely listening to what he had to say. The only reason she gave any of her time at all to the old coot was because of the gleaming prefect's badge on her chest. Her intended, Draco Malfoy, wore an identical one pinned to his black wizard's robed. He, however, was giving no outward appearance of respect whatsoever to the Headmaster. She knew that he couldn't help it…he had a lot on his mind. What with the loss of his father, and the disgrace that his family had been put through because of the fiasco at the ministry last summer, she couldn't blame him for giving no respect to the head of their school. But there was more than one reason Draco's usually prominent smirk was absent from his face tonight.

He'd also told her about the job her father had given him to do; although it was a top-secret plan, she was his intended. They had no secrets. She knew that Draco had been branded with the dark mark to take his father's place in the Dark Lord's inner circle. She also knew the awful task her father had given Draco was in vengeance for Lucius's mistake. The Dark Lord expected him to fail. Hermione wasn't sure what her father would do when Draco did not succeed at the task he had been set. Public humiliation towards his family was a given. Torture was likely. Death, however was not. No matter how infuriated the Dark Lord became with them, he would never risk breaking a bond that tied a family so tightly to him. When Draco and I wed, they'd have no choice but to be loyal to him; no chance of trickery or deception.

Draco hated the headmaster for what he had done to his father, and she in turn hated him for what he had unknowingly done to both Draco and herself. It was because of this man…and certain, annoying teenage boy with untidy black hair and glasses, that she could not truly claim her rightful birth name. Of course, she would never be allowed to attend Hogwarts under the name Hermione Riddle. No one would have dared accept the daughter of the greatest dark wizard of all time into the castle's boundaries.

Yet, the difference between her appearance and that of her adopted family's was so great that no one would believe she was their child by birth. They had taken Corvus and Hermione in shortly after their father's fall from power. She was barely two, and Corvus newly born when their father had tried to thwart an attempt to execute his downfall. Many of the Death Eaters felt that Voldemort should not have killed the children's mother before leaving; they felt it was that brutal incident that created bad magic, and luck, which in turn caused the Dark Lord's end. After all, there were certain rules to magic…rules that shouldn't be messed with.

No one really knew why he had slit her throat. All anyone knew was that the Dark Lord had Apparated to the Lestrange's house, left the children in their care, and set out for the Potter's. Their mother's body was found early the next morning, when other Death Eaters came to the Dark Lord's home, looking for any trace of their leader. The Lestranges had handed both children off to another family in the pureblood society that were more inconspicuous, and had set out to find their master. They were imprisoned a week later for the attack and torture on Frank and Alice Longbottom.

Draco was the only one who knew Hermione's true identity. Yes, the other Slytherins knew she was part of a Death Eater family, but they had no idea that they were rubbing shoulders with the Dark Daughter herself. She'd never seen any reason to enlighten them to this fact. Corvus had confided in no one about his true legacy. She could hardly blame him…after all, one day, he was supposed to be the next great and dark ruler. And yet, sometimes, when Dumbledore looked at her with that penetrating gaze, she felt as if he surely knew her secret. No matter how often she applied Occlumency against him, just to be on the safe side, she never felt as if her secret were truly hidden from him. And yet, surely, if he had known her who her birth father was, he would have had her and Corvus both expelled immediately. Especially now that the Dark Lord had returned.

Hermione felt a great surge of anger, which she immediately tried to tap down. It wasn't right for her to be angry with her father, and he would surely sense it later, the next time he allowed her into his presence. She winced at the punishment she would get if he knew that she was in any way upset at him. Half the time, she didn't understand why he'd ever agreed to let her live in the first place, and there were other times where she was surprised to find herself still alive when she went to bed that night. The Dark Lord didn't exactly follow the regular rules for parenting. His children were punished just as cruelly as his servants if they displeased him. Even Corvus.

But the Dark Lord met with Corvus often when they were home. Hermione had no idea what went on in these meetings, for Corvus would never say, and she dared not ask her father. She couldn't even begin to guess what it was like for him. Knowing from the moment that he was a small child that he would eventually expected to grow up to become as cruel and heartless as their father. She did not consider the Dark Lord evil. In her mind, there wasn't such a thing... Hermione did not joke with herself about the aspects of good and evil. As her father often put it, there was no good and evil, just power. She would not be one of the ones too weak to seek it. What one did with that power, and how one obtained it…well, to each their own. She was just as ambitious as the next Slytherin, possibly more so since she was a direct descendant of Salazar Slytherin himself, but she felt most of her father's cruelty was unnecessary, and that there were simpler, easier ways of getting what you wanted.

She tried not to dwell too much on her father's "business ventures" though. And that's what she saw them as. For every time she thought of what her father did, solely in the name of power, it made her sick to her stomach. She chose instead to not see the nameless hundreds of people that he slaughtered. Even a Muggle's life was worth something. Hermione agreed that people of Muggle heritage should not be allowed to do magic, but it didn't mean that she wanted them all dead. No, she simply saw them as animals. Useful, when necessary, and causing no real harm, but not really human. Many of the students here were of mixed blood, which she wasn't sure what to think of. Most were in the opinion that half bloods and blood traitors were as bad as being a Mudblood, but she wasn't quite convinced on that point. She rather saw it instead as since they had one respectable parent, then they deserved half the respect she would give a pureblooded peer.

She glanced over at the Gryffindor table. There was one exception to her stance on halfbloods. This one deserved no respect at all. Partially because he had brought about the downfall of her father, but mostly because he was an incredibly annoying, stupid git. Potter sat there with that stupid scar on his forehead as though it were a damned trophy. Claiming all the time that it was in pain or having hallucinations. She'd heard many stories circulating about him throughout the school, claiming things that he'd done. She doubted whether any of it was true. He seemed completely mediocre to the last degree, and she imagined him capable of starting the rumors himself to get a bit of attention. He always claimed that he didn't want any of the attention, yet he always managed to wind up smack dab in the middle of attention grabbing situations. Slightly to his right, Hermione saw the blood traitor, Weasly, and his sister. Draco hated them with a vengeance she could not understand. Yes, she accepted the fact that they were poor, and she would never even consider stepping a toe in their house, it didn't seem like they were awful people. Perhaps it was just a male thing, and Gryffindor always beating Quidditch caused for a rough rivalry. Well, that, and the head of the family, Mr. Weasly, was slightly odd, and liked Muggle contraptions, and worked in some lowly part of the ministry. She shuddered at what her father would do if he ever realized that she was even giving the blood traitors the time of day, even if it was only in her mind.

Hermione heard the scraping of chairs and realized the plates had cleared and everyone was going off to bed. She stared at the plate where her food had sat moments earlier, almost completely untouched. Draco held out his hand to her like a gentleman, and Hermione saw Pansy Parkinson shoot the hand a baleful glare. Hermione sent a sweet smile at her, which only infuriated Pansy more. She'd been panting after Draco since second year, and assumed that like most Slytherin males, Draco got around. But, as far as Hermione knew, Draco had remained ever faithful to her. And why shouldn't he? He was her intended…and her best friend. They'd shared everything together. Hermione hated the fact that Pansy obviously wanted Draco, and very badly, but he'd spurned her advances enough times to keep her mouth shut. Just to stir up the fire that was clearly burning in Pansy, Hermione kissed Draco full on the lips after he helped her up. Perhaps she was only slightly less cruel than her father then. She didn't really care.

She and Draco left the hall, hand in hand. Unfortunately, before they could make their way further, most of the Gryffindor table came out and very noisily too. Hermione thought they sounded like a bunch of uncultured hooligans. Hermione felt Draco's hand tense in hers. She tried to pull him away. He didn't need this on top of all the other stress he had. He ignored her insistent tug on his hand and turned to face Potter, Weasly, and their group of friends.

"Allright there Scarhead?" he called loudly. The entrance hall seemed to go very quiet, very suddenly. "We've been here, what, a whole hour and a half and you haven't needed rushing to the hospital yet?" Draco taunted. Hermione stood there, allowing no emotion to creep into her face. But she did not join into the argument either.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Potter returned. "Or perhaps it'll be you getting sent to the hospital wing." Potter pulled out his wand and aimed it threateningly at Draco. Hermione wanted to pull her wand out and defend Draco, but she wouldn't dishonor him that way in front of all these people. She wouldn't join in this fray unless he truly needed her. However, the need never came.

"What is the problem here?" a calm voice said coolly. Hermione realized that many students had stopped to watch the fight, and it was causing a blockage near the door. A teacher had come to investigate the source of the commotion. Hermione thanked Merlin that it was Professor Snape and not one of the other teachers.

"Wands away. Both of you. Ten points from Gryffindor, Potter for fighting." Snape made a little tsk-ing noise under his breath. "And on the first night back too." He shook his head in mock disappointment. Draco smirked, which incensed Potter more than the unfair situation already had.

"But sir—" he began angrily.

" I do not care what you have to say on the matter Potter. Now, put your wand away, now." Potter still did not put the wand away, but kept it held out in a defensive position in front of him. Hermione wondered if the boy were deaf as well as stupid. Snape sent him a menacing smile.

"Five more points from your house, for not obeying me." Potter glared at him a moment more, and then pocketed his wand. Most students seemed disappointed that a better fight had not broken out.

"Any one who is still here when I get back in two minutes will be given detention." Snape's quiet voice carried easily through the silent entrance hall. He turned and walked back into the Great Hall his robes swishing as he went. Everyone seemed stunned for a moment.

"You heard the Professor," the Head boy called suddenly. "Get a move on you lot." With that, the crowd seemed to break up, and whispered conversations began to take place about what had just happened. The Gryffindors were all looking as if they would love nothing more than to hex all of the Slytherins repeatedly. Hermione tugged on Draco's arm again. It wasn't smart to stay here without a Professor around. Draco eventually let her lead him away, and the whispers died down as they made their way back to the dungeon.

Hermione had full intentions of turning in early that night. Indeed, when she walked into the dormitory for the sixth year girls, she was the first one there. It took her a moment to realize there was a piece of parchment resting against her pillow. She wondered who could have sent her mail already, and why it was not delivered the next morning by owl. She picked up the paper and turned it over. It was not a stationary she recognized. She daintily picked up a letter opener off the desk and popped seal wax on the scroll. Her heart sank as she read the letter.

Mrs. Marvolo,

I have some important matters to discuss with you, if you are willing.

Please come to my office after all your lessons have ended tomorrow at five o'clock.

Oh, and enjoy your first day back.

Sincerely,

Professor Dumbledore.


	3. The Choice

**I'm sorry for the cliffhanger last time...well, okay, I'm not. =) I love doing that to my stories...because I figure, other readers, like me, hate them. **

**Thank you very much to to the people who have reviewed: Dragonmaster65 (I'm glad that you don't find my story bogus! I try to be original as often as my brain allows...which is pretty much 99.9% of the time. It always has to have its say because something triggers and idea.), Eclipse of the battle who has reviewed TWICE(and I'm very VERY grateful to you for it), and YoruichiKittyCat16. All of your reviews make me feel very inspired to keep cranking out chapters. =)**

**I'll shut up now so you can read. Enjoy, and please remember to review!**

Hermione went to sleep that night feeling very anxious. It was a feeling normally associated with being at home, not so much around her adoptive parents, but more so when her father was around. Her adopted family was never doting or showed excessive amounts of kindness, but they were nothing, _nothing _compared to the Dark Lord when he was in a temper.

However, at Hogwarts, she'd always felt in control, a step above the other students. After all, none of their naïve, incompetent little minds could ever dream of comprehending the horrors she lived through. It angered her that most of the school judged the Slytherins before they even got to know them, simply because the Slytherin house had turned out more dark wizards than any other. They Slytherins were forced to stick together because the rest of the school shunned them. So yes, a few had bad attitudes and some of them came from Death Eater families, but Hermione knew for a fact that not all of them were loyal to the Dark Lord. She pitied those most, for they were caught in between a war which was not theirs to fight, and which they did not want to participate in.

Throughout the day, Hermione, who was usually a model student, was hardly even bothering to focus on her classes. She continually fretted about her meeting that night with the Headmaster in his office. Her mind tried to conjure up what it could possibly be about, and her vast intelligence kept mentally calculating the possibilities that it could be.

Draco knew that something was wrong. That morning, at breakfast, he had placed his hand over her own and given her a worried look.

"What's bothering you?" he asked quietly, trying not to draw attention to the question in case anyone was listening. Hermione did not siphon off her concerns on to him. He had enough to be getting on with as it was, she need not add her worry to the huge burden that was already placed upon his shoulders. She squeezed his hand lightly.

"I'm fine." She tried to reassure him, coolly. "You just concentrate on—on your homework, love." Draco's pale face turned a delicate shade of green when she brought up his looming problem, and he spoke no more.

Despite their discretion, she knew people at the table had seen. A pair of dark brown eyes almost identical to her own caught her attention. Corvus was staring at her and Draco from a little ways down the table. His expression was stony, and his eyes were blank and unreadable. However, she was sure her younger brother had caught on to the exchange between the two confidantes. She thought that he would ask her what was wrong when he had her alone. Her prediction came true hours later when Corvus stopped her in the hallways between classes and pulled them into an empty classroom.

"Is it _him_?" Corvus asked, and Hermione did not need to guess who he meant. There was only one person that would cause Corvus to speak with that amount of respect and fear in his voice. Hermione did not say anything for a moment but looked down at her feet.

"Hermione?" he asked again, trying to coax it out of her. She wished that he were not so determined all the time.

"I—I don't know," she said truthfully. "I got a funny letter…" she trailed off, afraid to say more to her brother. She didn't know how much she should tell him, and in turn, how much he would tell their father.

"What did it say?" he asked sharply. She wasn't sure if it was concern for her, or fear of being found out that made his question so blunt.

"Someone…wanted to meet me." She said, editing. She felt that she should at least conceal the fact from Corvus that she was meeting Dumbledore, for she was certain that this information would find its way back to the Dark Lord. He would either punish her greatly, or somehow find a way to use her to spy closer on Dumbledore, and she didn't find either option pleasant.

"Do I need to come with you?" he asked her. She almost wanted to laugh. Almost, but not quite. She found it odd that Corvus, though two years younger than her, seemed to try to play the role of big brother. She shook her head quickly.

"I can handle it on my own." Hermione said in a sure sort of voice. She didn't want Corvus butting into her business. Especially not with what her current business agenda was. He looked at her silently for a moment, and she held her breath. It all depended on Corvus now, because either he would insist on coming with her, and telling their father later about what he had found out, or he would agree that she could handle it on her own. His brown eyes continued to meet hers, giving nothing away. She held her silence. Then, he gave a sudden, short nod, and left the classroom.

Hermione's tension visibly lessened. She was not sure exactly what the Headmaster's meeting with her would entail, but she felt easier about it now that she did not have her brother breathing down her neck.

She felt as though five o'clock came much too quickly. Her last lesson of the day finished, she headed into the main part of the castle. She passed the Great Hall, and had a fleeting urge to skip the meeting all together, to go and sit down with the other Slytherins and pretend that nothing was out of the ordinary. To sit and eat the wonderful mean the house elves at Hogwarts had surely prepared, and to comfort Draco on his ongoing mission.

But she had a feeling that, for whatever reason, this meeting was extremely important. Hermione 's hunches hardly ever steered her wrong, and this one was telling her that whatever it was the Headmaster wanted to talk to her about, it was not simply a regular Professor and pupil chat.

She marched resignedly to where she knew Professor Dumbledore's study to be. The gargoyle that stood guard to the entrance looked expectantly at her. It irritated her after a moment when it did not move.

"I need to see the Headmaster." She stated. The gargoyle smiled a toothy smile at her. It was unnerving to be smiled at that way by a statue.

"Need the password first, lass." Well, Hermione thought it incredibly rude of Dumbledore to ask for an audience with her, and forget to tell her the password to get into his office.

"I have an appointment," she said, irritated.

"An appointment, eh? Ooooh. Put me in my place, that did." Hermione was not going to waste her time if the stupid statue was going to mock her. Her opinion of Dumbledore was becoming less and less. She turned on her heel and made to walk away instead of answering the gargoyle.

"Wait, wait!" He called. "What's your name, girl?" She turned back around and gave the statue a most malevolent glare.

"Hermione Marvolo." She had never known that a gargoyle's stone face could look shocked, but he managed it. He did not say another word, but moved out of the way to reveal a circling spiral stair case.

"Thank you." She said acidly as she passed. The gargoyle still said nothing to her. She couldn't believe that she was doing this, especially after that little episode. Against her better judgment, she raised her hand to the large brass knocker on the wooden door and tapped it smartly once against the smooth wood. She heard a voice come from within the room on the other side of the door.

"Enter." She opened the door and took her first steps into the Headmaster's office. Her first impression was that it was too bright, and too cluttered. There were odd objects on a spindly little table. A few of them she could name, having studied their magical properties in one book or another, but she had no idea what the greater part of the objects were. They were all very bright, and a few spinning though.

She looked around at the portraits of past headmasters and headmistresses. They were all staring curiously back at her, as if they did not know what to make of her presence in this office.

"Hello, Miss Marvolo." The headmaster said quietly. "Kindly shut the door behind you, won't you?"

"Yes sir." Hermione replied, and shut the door, which closed without a sound. She turned to face Dumbledore again. He was sitting in a chair behind his desk, smiling serenely, and looking down at her over the top of his glasses.

"Please, have a seat." He offered politely, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk. She took the seat cautiously. She had no idea what to expect from the eccentric headmaster. He stared at her calmly, and she wondered if she was waiting for her to speak.

"I received your letter." She stated. She was already irritated, and was in no mood to play the professor's games.

"Ah, yes." He nodded, and clasped his hands together. "I daresay you've been wondering what I wanted to discuss with you?" She thought it was an odd way to phrase the burning curiosity that had been plaguing her all day.

"You could say that. Sir." She added dry. She may not like the man, but she respected the fact that he was in a position of power, and she had to honor that.

"Well, actually…" Dumbledore started to say. "I wanted to talk to you about your father." Hermione's stomach felt like it dropped ten stories. She tried to cover up her overwhelming and sudden sense of panic.

"My F—Father, sir? Has he taken ill?" She tried to play it off as if she believed the Headmaster was speaking of her adopted father. He stared at her calmly.

"We are both brilliant people here, madam. I would ask you not to insult either of our intelligences by pretending you do not know what I am talking about, Miss Marvolo. Or do you prefer Miss Riddle?" Hermione was too shocked to say anything. The only good thing that she could say for herself at that moment was that she allowed no emotion to creep into her face. She'd mastered that ability years ago…it always helped to have a good poker face when you led the life of the Dark Lord's Daughter.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." She said coldly. To hell with respect for the man. He was opening up boxes of things that were none of his business, and should have remained tightly shut. Dumbledore sighed.

"I had so hoped you would have been able to be open from the very beginning with me. It would have been much better manners you know." He cocked his head to the side and examined her, as though waiting to see if she would reply. He had another think coming if he thought she was going to break that quickly. She endured much worse punishments at home than his penetrating gaze. But just to be on the safe side, she tried to empty her heart of all emotion, and clear her thoughts. The headmaster shook his head.

"It would have made it much easier to trust you…but however, I see that you are not your father, Hermione Riddle." She flinched slightly at the sound of her true name. Dumbledore continued as though he had not noticed, when in reality he had, and was analyzing the reaction that the girl had when he called her by her birth name. "I know you are Lord Voldemort's daughter, as Corvus Marvolo is his son, who is expected to one day ascend to his father's throne." Hermione had jumped at the sound of her own father's name. She'd never heard anyone use it. "I also know about Draco Malfoy's mission to kill me by year's end." Hermione couldn't help it, her eyes bugged out of her head. How had Dumbledore gained this most secret piece of information? He seemed delighted that he had managed to get a reaction out of her. "You'd be surprised at how much I know, Miss Riddle. There isn't a lot that goes on without my knowledge under this castle roof."

"If you know who we are—my brother and I—then why are we still sitting here, Professor? Why haven't you handed us over to the Ministry of Magic to be held hostage?" She was honestly curious. It was the kind of thing her father would have done.

"Because I believe that to do so would be a horrendous mistake. You see, I do not think children, or anyone for that matter, should be punished for crimes they had no hand in." She looked at him incredulously. "In other words, Miss Riddle, you cannot help who you are, or what your parents do. You've never had an opportunity to do something about it. This is the chance that I am willing to give to you. An olive branch being extended, if you will."

"I don't understand you." She said slowly. "What are you asking of me?"

" I know that you do not agree with what your father does, Miss Riddle."

"How could you possibly—" Hermione started angrily, but he held up a hand to silence her.

"As you have often guessed, I am skilled in the art of _**Legilimency**_. I am quite sorry to have broken into your mind without your permission, but it was key in my planning, see?" he said, apologetically.

"And how do I fit into your plans?" Hermione asked scathingly. This man had, unbeknownst to her, had used her. She felt as if she had been tricked.

"Please, hear me out. If you can agree to do that, then I shall tell you the rest. If you cannot, then we say goodbye for the present and part ways, with no one any the wiser to your birthright." He stated simply. She thought it over for a moment. What could be the harm in hearing him out? It wasn't as if he asked her to agree to anything…yet. She had a feeling that part was coming.

"I'm listening."

"Excellent." He beamed at her. "I will not reveal everything to you right now, but if you agree, all will be revealed to you in time." He took a deep breath. "I know that you are unhappy with the way your father has gone about things to gain his power. I know that you want better for both yourself and your sibling. I can't imagine what you've had to endure at the hands of your father." She mostly repressed the shiver of those dark memories, but Dumbledore's ever watching eye caught it and he gazed at her sympathetically.

"I am offering you that chance. You would be a key part in what I have planned for bringing about your father's demise." Hermione had guessed that this was where the conversation was going, but she still felt sickened to hear the words come out of the old man's mouth. He did not pause to let her speak. "There are many things about your father that he has never told you, and things that he does not tell even his most trusted Death Eaters. Voldemort trusts no one, and cares for no one. Of course, I may be wrong, and the he has developed feelings for his two children. Correct me if you must." Here he paused, and she was obviously supposed to answer.

"He doesn't give a damn." She whispered. She cleared her throat and spoke again. "Leastways, not about me. He cares more for Corvus, because he's supposed to follow in his footsteps, but not as a father loves a son. Perhaps as an objective manager looking to promote a worthy worker in his office, but never as a family." Tears pricked at her eyes as she relayed all of this information to the headmaster.

"I am truly sorry for your sufferings." He said quietly. Hermione nodded once, and the headmaster continued on. "From many, many months of hard work, I have deduced your father's deepest secret, one that he believe only he knows. It is this information that will enable him to be destroyed." How odd, Hermione mused, that they were discussing the killing of her biological father, and she felt no real remorse towards him…just a slight, nagging feeling of disloyalty.

"Professor…"She started, "I don't know if I can help you. You're right, I don't agree with the things he does, and I hate what he's done to me, what he's done to Corvus, what he expects him to grow up to be…but that doesn't mean I want him dead."

"Surely no human with any sort of feelings at all would wish a parent's death. But, Miss Riddle, don't you see how it is not simply about your father. If Tom Riddle had began as a good person, and continued down that path, then the world would be a happier place, with one more fantastic and unique wizard in it." Hermione wished that it could be true. Dumbledore too looked as though it were his deepest wish for that to have happened. "However," he said, and his face darkened, "that is _not _what happened, and instead, he became Lord Voldemort. The Wizarding realm has lived in fear of him for over three decades. The number of people alone he killed…and not even including the countless other that were tortured, or blackmailed, or taken away from their families…" he stopped and looked down at her.

"You think," She hissed, "that I'm not aware of what my father does? Of the fact that when he comes home in a good mood, it's usually meant the death of someone out there?" She was looking at the headmaster menacingly. "Do you truly believe that I am stupid enough not to recognize the madness that goes on under my own roof?"

"No, I simply think that you wish to be a good daughter and a good person, and overlook the atrocities your father commits." He had hit the nail on the head. She wondered for a moment how he could possibly have known the way she kept herself sane. Then she remembered about his uninvited sprees into her mind.

"What…would I have to do?" Hermione asked him. A part of her brain was screaming at her to stop, and leave, and warn her father, her brother, someone. But she knew she would not do it. She could not overlook her father's misdoings anymore. "Have me talk to my father? You know he would kill me instantly if he ever thought my loyalty in him wavered. Stop Draco, and have him threatened or tortured? I care too much for him to do that, and I won't." She was mentally ticking off things in her mind that Dumbledore might ask. She could do neither of those things, as she had previously stated. She could not think that Draco might be hurt because of her, although she had no wish for him to become a murderer.

"Does this mean, then, that you are willing to help us?" Dumbledore asked quietly. Hermione could not answer, so thick was her emotion. She dared not risk opening her mouth for fear that her voice would betray her. Instead, she did the simplest action known to human kind, but an action that would forever change her role as the dark daughter.

She nodded.

**Wow, another cliff hanger, and two days in a row. Hope you liked this chapter...if you did, let me know! Heck, even if you didn't, and theres something you think I should address, or didn't do properly, or just have constructive critisim in general...leave a review, and I'll certainly get back to you. =) And if you're bothering to read and review for my stories, then I'll definetly try to return the favor. **

**Goodnight everyone. Happy Reading.**

**Meghan**


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